Instead of going to the nearest Metro station one day this week after work I kept on walking to the next nearest Metro station. The weather was so darn pleasant I couldn’t resist. Once DC summer hits I will loathe walking anywhere in work clothes so I thought I should take advantage of it. Plus there is a nice paved path that runs through a little greenway that links the King Street and Braddock Road stations. As I walked along I was in one of those “life is great” kind of moods. Dogs playing in the grass made me smile. The gentle clickty-clack of the Metro on the nearby tracks combined with the weather made me think for a moment that I was in suburban London not suburban DC. And the song birds were busy doing their thing. All in all it was a sublime moment carved out of everyday life.

After a bit, a twenty-something guy was headed my direction on the path and the sound from his iPod buds preceded him by quite a distance. I am guessing that most people have had those moments when someone elses‘ headphone volume seemed excessive. However, I was still surprised at how far his aural spillover carried down the length of the path. As soon as he passed and the sound of his iPod dissipated the songbirds could be heard again, another train went by, and a dog barked. Although I wasn’t annoyed by hearing his music, in a way it was part of the patchwork of sound that made up the moment, but I did reflect on the fact that so many people today walk around plugged into something. Either they are on their phones exchanging inanities, unable to move from point A to point B without having a telephonic audience, or they are listening to music on headphones connected to an iPod. I have my cell phone and iPod, so I am no Luddite, but I can’t help feeling like too many people are so plugged into an electronic world that they never hear the birds singing, let alone appreciate them.

Although only 38, I have long been an old curmudgeon wishing for some idyllic version of the past that never existed. A past where a young Leonard Bernstein was a super star, packages came in brown paper and string, a person had more than one steamer trunk for the Cunard crossing, and folks sat on porches drinking lemonade and eating cookies. Of course in my fantasy-world olden days people didn’t smoke, gays were A-OK, and the Vietnam War never happened. But I digress (a lot)–back to my afternoon walk to the Metro. All I could think when this guy walked past with his iPod was how he was missing out on the birds, and the train clickty-clack, and the dog, and even the sound kids playing off in the distance. As much as I love my iPod, I don’t want to be that disconnected from the world.

In a similar vein, as much as I love the Internet and would have a nearly impossible time functioning without it, I am sometimes nostalgic for a pre-Internet world. When my good friend Ron was in town recently we were talking about our mutual experience working in London right after college. We talked about how different our experiences abroad would have been if email and the Internet had been around. Back then, we would wait to see what mail might come from friends and family back home. Or on some rare occasions a transatlantic phone call might even be contemplated. As a 21-year old moving to another country to work, living with a bunch of young ex-pat wannabees from all over was an adventure in the new and unexpected. On good days it was exhilarating and fascinating on bad days feelings of isolation and homesickness took over. And all of it was experienced without the usual family and friends for support. I can’t imagine how different that experience must be today for college students spending time abroad–at least in the developed world. With regular access to email, Skype, and websites for U.S. news outlets I wonder if today’s student travellers even feel like they have left home.

I am not really sure what exactly I am trying to convey. Maybe I have reached that tipping point where I no longer envy the young. As I slide towards 40 maybe I am finally starting to become comfortable with my place on the great timeline of human experience. Or perhaps it is more likely that I am sliding to that far scarier place where one thinks that everything was better back when.

I recieved this email in response to my last post and the reference to Dr. Heimlich.

Hello Thomas,

I came across your blog item which included:

A few years ago I read a story about Dr. Heimlich of the Heimlich Maneuver fame. Apparently he was ill and reaching the end of his life and had never had the opportunity to actually use his maneuver on a choking victim. Despite all of the lives he had indirectly saved he was troubled that he never got to use the maneuver. So he started hanging out at restaurants and other places where people eat in public as much as possible just hoping that someone would begin to choke and need his assistance.

You may be referring to my September 17, 2005 article, Bankers Club, 2001: Dr. Heimlich To The Rescue? If so, allow me to clarify.

Briefly, reporters at major media outlets – The New Yorker, BBC News, and the Chicago Sun-Times – all published a story that Dr. Heimlich told them, that in 2001 he rescued a choking victim using the Heimlich maneuver at the Banker’s Club, a well-known private club here in Cincinnati. Despite repeated attempts to verify the story with Dr. Heimlich, his press agent, and a Banker’s Club employee who provided the information to one reporter, no one would provide any facts which might substantiate the story: the date, the alleged victim’s name, any witnesses, etc.

So did those major media outlets get snookered? If so, nobody’s talking. For example, shortly after The New Yorker published the item, I wrote and asked them to fact-check what they’d published. They refused. This from a magazine that endlessly trumpets its fact-checking department? I guess their corrections department isn’t as diligent.

By the way, I’m not sure where you got the information about Dr. Heimlich being ill. I understand he turned 88 last month, is in good health, and still travels.

Sincerely,

The Dean of Cincinnati
The Cincinnati Beacon

When I was in college I sold all of my records (that’s right vinyl) to buy groceries. Groove Monster, a used record store in Dinkytown near the University of Minnesota ended up with my entire collection. I don’t think I really had anything collectible, but it was traumatic to let some of those discs go nonetheless. The advent of iTunes has been an amazing remedy for that loss and the cause of many a nostalgic moment. The ability to find and download my favorite parts of that record collection is fantastic. I can get old Laurie Anderson, vintage OMD, and my favorite Siouxsie and the Banshees cuts. Perhaps most liberating is the the ability to get a few singles here there that I would have been embarassed to be caught listening to, let alone owning, back in the day. Like Kyrie by Mr. Mister. Who wants to stand up and admit they own that? Yet I stand guilty of plunking down my 99 cents to download it onto my iPod and loving it. And with the ability to sample all of the songs in the catalog, who hasn’t come across new and interesting music?

Not so with classical music. Although there is a lot of it available on iTunes, the search engine and the way they are classified doesn’t make it easy to stumble across the new and the unfamilar. Plus for me browsing classical music was a hobby of mine that is not as fulfilling online as it is in person.

By the time Tower Records bit the dust I must admit I wasn’t surprised. I watched over the years as the classical section got smaller and smaller, but I knew the end was near when the pop/rock/r&b/rap section started to shrink in favor of magazines and DVDs. My “local” Tower was the one here in DC right near The George Washington University. I loved the fact that it was open until midnight 365 days a year. On those nights when I was a little restless and bored I would walk from Dupont Circle and and spend hours wandering through the rows of CDs in the classical music room. I can remember more than one Christmas Eve browsing the bins until closing time. I didn’t even need to buy anything. I would flip through the once huge classical selection contemplating the merits and demerits of each recording with the help of the well-worn Penguin and Gramophone guides.

Over the past few years the degradation of the classical sanctuary at Tower became so depressing that I can’t say that I didn’t feel a tiny bit of relief when the whole store closed. It was time to put the ailing classical section out of its misery. Thankfully there are truly amazing options for finding all kinds of classical music CDs online but I fear that my days of the serendipitous surprise discovery are over.

But I can get all the Mr. Mister I could ever want.

The Womenfolk-My Heart Tells Me To Believe
http://lads.myspace.com/videos/vplayer.swf

You can read about The Womenfolk and WF related items here, here, here, and here.

Well, yesterday I got an email from a very cool potential employer telling me that he was planning on sending me an offer letter next week once he is back from a work trip. Prudence would have cautioned against taking action before actually getting that offer letter. But Prudence wasn’t around so we ignored her advice. (ha ha)

This was our first trip to Australia and it exceeded our expectations in every way. The natural beauty of Australia and its beautiful cities were only surpassed by the friendliness of Australian people.

We were also very lucky and had pefect weather everywhere we went. The Austrlian winter (North American summer) is definitely the time to go to the Great Barrier Reef. (In the Australian summer the GBR gets pretty hot and the stinging jelly fish are apparently everywhere.) Melbourne with its chilly, fall-like temps was a wonderful change from summer in DC and the weather in Sydney was perfect for walking around and enjoying the city. The winter shadows also made for some beautiful views throughout our trip.

The quality of life in Australia makes it a little hard to come back to the crumbling, crime-ridden streets of the ‘richest’ country in the world. Australians may be taxed to high heaven, but at least they have something to show for it.

Now if I could only get over this killer jet lag…